


noses, lips, and fingers

by ashensprites



Category: (여자)아이들 | (G)I-DLE
Genre: Christmas/Holiday Fic, F/F, Fluff, M&M - Freeform, YuYeon, sooshu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashensprites/pseuds/ashensprites
Summary: a soft christmas/holiday fic for the girls
Relationships: Cho Miyeon/Minnie Nicha Yontararak, Jeon Soyeon/Song Yuqi, Seo Soojin/Yeh Shuhua
Comments: 14
Kudos: 265





	1. noses

Her nose is cold. She rubs at it with the back of her hand in an attempt to warm it up, because any colder and she fears frostbite settling on its tip. It's not her first winter in Korea, but every year it seems to get colder and colder. 

Nicha 'Minnie' Yontararak glances over at the woman standing next to her. 

Colder and colder, yet warmer and warmer at the same time. Any younger and she'd have scoffed, but the girl (she still feels like a girl, even though she has since a while back blossomed into a fine woman) who stands in her shoes and goes by her name now understands what it means to have both heat and ice in her veins. 

And going by anyone's standards, Cho Miyeon is the very definition of hot. 

A face created by angels on their best day, a nose bridge sculpted by the greatest artists, a shy smile that spreads and grows into a silly laugh when deliriously happy. And her body, slim but tough, toned from years and years of dancing and exercise and diet and everything they had to go through when they were trainees.

And when she turns, God! Her beauty up front is truly a sight to behold. The scene below is incomparable. 

"You're exaggerating, Minnie."

Minnie blinks. Her eyes focus on Miyeon's smile. She must have been saying that out loud. Minnie flushes and hides her pink cheeks with her hands. "It's true, though," she whispers through her fingers. 

"We're at the top of Namsan Tower, Minnie, you wanted to come here!" 

"I know, I know." Minnie turns to stare at the picturesque landscape below them. Fifteen minutes to ten at night and the sky overhead is dotted with satellites that blink against an inky backdrop. Under their feet the city is still alive and vibrant, cars and buses that escort people to their next destination of the night, whether it be home or a club or a lover's secret embrace; shadows dancing in apartment windows, a single student living in a tiny goshiwon or a family of five playing with toys or a couple making love with their curtains drawn firmly shut; the multitude of convenience stores and motels and late-night pojangmacha stalls where tired workers take shots of soju and where the broken-hearted find consolation in their brethren: this is Seoul. 

"Isn't the scenery beautiful?" Minnie breathes, mist leaving her mouth in quick puffs. 

"It sure is." Miyeon doesn't lie, not when her scenery is standing before her, hands tucked in the pockets of her padded coat, nose reddened by the cold - and still she manages to look like the royalty that she is. Bangs brush past her eyebrows, nearly covering mesmerising eyes that can be both cold when intimidating yet warm when loving, a smile so brilliant and bright it's like looking at the sun. Minnie's body fits perfectly to hers, just the right size to envelop Miyeon in a comfortable embrace, hips Miyeon likes to bump against to attract the Thai woman's attention, long legs that go on for days now clad in a pair of insulated pants. 

And don't even get her started on Minnie's voice. Breathy, bewitching. Minnie must be a sorceress, for she has put Miyeon under a spell unbreakable. 

"I've always wanted to come here with my lover," Minnie continues. She tilts her head and grins. "With you."

Is it any wonder Miyeon swoons? 

Then Minnie sneezes. Miyeon bursts out laughing, cackles that echo through the night. 

"Don't laugh," Minnie whines. "It's freezing."

"Why didn't you bring a scarf, then?" Miyeon teases. 

"Look, I can be forgetful sometimes too, okay-" Minnie's voice is muffled by a thick length of knitted wool. She looks down at where Miyeon's hands are busy looping one end of a forest-green scarf around her neck, pulling it up to cover Minnie's nose and mouth. 

Minnie cautiously sniffs at the scarf. It smells a bit like the spices in her mum's kitchen and a bit like Miyeon. 

It smells like home. 

"Where did this come from?" she asks, fingering the scarf. 

"I made it!" Miyeon announces proudly. She pouts when Minnie gives her a suspicious side-eye and raises her brows. "What?" 

"You." Minnie pointed to the scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. "Made this."

"Yes?"

"You can't even cook, babe, your dexterity skills are questionable at best."

Miyeon huffs. "If you don't like it, I'll take it back!" She reaches out to take the scarf back, but Minnie backs away from her grabby fingers. 

"Who said I didn't like it?" Minnie clings on to the scarf as if her life depends on it. She examines the scarf under the dim light of Namsan Observatory - now that she's taking a good look at it, she can tell it's clearly been hand-knitted, what with the occasional missed stitch and awkward holes where attempts have been made to hide them. She can imagine Miyeon struggling to patch it up, her clumsy fingers dropping the knitting needles on her bed as she sits cross-legged with a ball of yarn beside her. "I love it."

Miyeon instantly brightens. "You do?"

"Of course." Minnie buries her nose in the scarf, breathing in its scent. "It smells like you."

Miyeon flushes, her cheeks turning scarlet. "Don't say that, it's embarrassing!" 

"Is it?" Minnie shifts closer to Miyeon, nearly leaning on her. "How so?" 

"I don't know, it just is," Miyeon mumbles. She sniffs before sneezing into Minnie's coat. Minnie pulls a face, but starts to unravel the long scarf from her neck. 

"Let's share."

"What?" Miyeon frowns, confused. "It's not long enough."

"Hey, I love you like crazy, but trust me." Minnie extends what she estimates is half the length of the scarf (though it feels like at least a metre already) towards Miyeon. "This scarf is probably long enough to completely wrap a five-year-old child in."

Miyeon pouts and sniffs again, but allows Minnie to wrap her up in the scarf. "There, all done."

Miyeon giggles. "We must look pretty silly like this."

"Not at all." Minnie whispers, tugging Miyeon towards her, foolish grin hidden behind her scarf, growing upwards to curve her eyes into loving crescents. "You look perfect. Exactly like my Christmas present."

"And you mine." They stand there atop Namsan Tower, a million miles high in the sky, linked by threads of a earth-green scarf. Miyeon leans in until their noses are brushing, finding warmth and love in an Eskimo kiss. 

"Merry Christmas, my angel."

"Merry Christmas, my queen."


	2. lips

Seo Soojin's lower lip is exactly 1cm wide. Shuhua knows, because she's measured it with a tape measure. She’s also spent an unreasonable amount of time dreaming about how it tastes and feels against her own. She’s watched lipstick being applied to it, rouge-red, bold and daring and absolutely tempting; she’s followed the way they move when Soojin speaks, small lip movements accompanying a quiet voice, the way they stretch into a shy smile when she’s being complimented. But nothing will ever top the way she says Shuhua’s name.

Yeh - mouth opening, showing a glint of white teeth - 

Shu - lips puckering up for a kiss - 

Hua - released from a kiss, retracting into a coy smile -

“Shuhua!” Soojin’s normally calm voice snaps out at breaks the Taiwanese girl out from her reverie. “The pot! It’s boiling over!”

Shuhua whips around from where she’s been stationed at the chopping board with onions and garlic in their kitchen. Sure enough, the pot of beef broth that’s been merrily bubbling away on their stove is leaking soup, lid clattering as it does a mad jig on its container. Shuhua scrambles to turn the fire off, nearly burning her finger in the process. Grabbing a kitchen towel, she gently lifts the searing-hot lid off the pot and peers into it.

“Oh no.” Shuhua’s voice takes on a sad quality. “Half the soup’s gone.”

Soojin frowns and puts her bowl of batter down. Chocolate chips sink themselves into the quicksand of brownie mix as she bustles over to Shuhua, tightening her apron as her feet busily move across the floor. Pressing herself up against Shuhua’s back, she takes advantage of their three centimetre height difference to peer over Shuhua’s shoulder into the pot. Soup stock packets and some haphazardly thrown in seaweed float to the brim of a thick, fragrant broth that has Shuhua’s mouth watering.

“Don’t worry, Shuhua,” Soojin assures her, pressing a cocoa-dusted hand against the younger girl’s cheek. “We can just add more water to it, and more soup packets if the taste dilutes. Let me just wash my hands and I’ll do it.”

"No no no I'll help you carry it let me help you carry it," Shuhua chants as she follows Soojin around their kitchen from the stove to the sink. "Jinjin no you'll burn yourself." 

Soojin sends Shuhua a scathing look as she picks up their electric kettle. "I'm just going to boil some water, Shu, then pour it into the pot.”

“Oh.” Shuhua cocks her head like a confused puppy. She blinks her doe-like eyes, stark against her snow-white skin, thick black hair never once dyed framing her face like a gilded-gold portrait. “Why?”

“If you put hot water in an already boiling pot of soup, it takes less time for the water to reach boiling point.”

Shuhua’s eyes widen. Seo Soojin, she thinks, is a genius. Scientist extraordinaire, dare she say. She watches Soojin fill up the kettle and set it to a boil before fishing out a couple of extra stock packets just in case. Her eyes dart to the kettle, then back to Soojin again.

The love of her life looks absolutely at home, comfortable in her domestic reign. Her bangs have been brushed aside, slightly damp with sweat as she works on the brownies that Shuhua had been asking for the past week. Under her left eye (Shuhua remembers that it’s left now, the last time she got it wrong on Weekly Idol Soojin gave her the cold shoulder for the whole night and that may have very well been the darkest part of her life to date) is a beauty mark that Soojin has tried time and time again to remove, much to Shuhua’s chagrin. Shuhua loves the mole, partly because it mirrors her own under her right eye.

Protecting her casual sweater-and-jeans outfit is a white apron adorned with little cherries, its string looped around her waist, tied by yours truly in a neatly knotted ribbon. (Shuhua has a matching apron, by the way, with puppies dancing in print across hers.) Her hands are busy stirring brownie batter, something that Shuhua has been asking for the past week. Soojin’s dark, patient eyes flick up to look at Shuhua. “What?”

“I love you!” Shuhua blurts out.

Soojin hums noncommittally, more than accustomed to Shuhua’s daily confessions. “Finish dicing those onions, won’t you?” Soojin nods at the chopping board where the bulbs lie half-cut, knife haphazardly placed when Shuhua had tossed it aside to tend to the stove. 

Shuhua huffs, disheartened by the clear lack of affection, and shuffles back to her station. “Okay.”

(Behind her, Soojin grins and stifles a laugh. It’s just too easy to tease Shuhua.)

Picking her knife up, she starts the tedious task of dicing onions for fried rice. Blade resting against her knuckles, fingers folded in to grip the bulb. One slice, then another. Some more cuts in and her eyes feel like they’re on fire. She sniffles and rubs her tears with the back of her hand before continuing her attack on the onions. Chop, chop, chop. She’s bored. Please, won’t someone come and save her from this terrible, eye-watering chore?

For once, she’s actually wishing Miyeon would come into the kitchen and bother her like she normally does. But that’s not happening today. She knows the oldest woman in their dorm has been knitting a present for Minnie, she’s never seen knitting needles moving that quickly - the result of procrastination. Shuhua’s thought of maybe making something for Soojin, but she doesn’t really know how to make anything, nor does she know what to buy.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, Shuhua doesn’t notice the knife slip until-

“Ouch!”

Soojin’s head shoots up. She immediately drops her bowl of batter and sprints over to Shuhua. A few droplets of blood have found themselves on the wooden board. Soojin reaches for Shuhua’s hand and gently examines her cut finger. It’s not too deep, which is a relief, but still enough to draw blood. She grabs a kitchen towel and holds it against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Looking up, she tries to gauge Shuhua’s pain. 

“Does it hurt?” Soojin asks, her tone soft and motherly. It must, she supposes, why wouldn’t it?

The younger girl isn’t crying - Shuhua is tough, Soojin knows - but there are lines etching themselves into her forehead as she frowns. Shuhua shakes her head. “No.”

“Wait here, okay? Wash the cut, and I’ll go get you a band-aid.”

Shuhua nods. Soojin dashes off to retrieve their first-aid kit hidden somewhere in the house. When she dashes back with some antiseptic ointment and a plaster, Shuhua is leaning by the doorway of the kitchen, pressing a damp tissue to her cut with a sulky expression on her face. Soojin wastes no more time, peeling the tissue away from Shuhua’s finger and lifting it to eye level. She applies some ointment to the cut before neatly covering it with the band-aid.

“There, all done.” She pats Shuhua’s head comfortingly.

Shuhua pouts. “Won’t you kiss it better?”

Soojin stares at her before chuckling. “Okay, okay.” She lifts Shuhua’s hand up like a princess and brushes her lips across the band-aid. 

“And this, too.” Shuhua taps her lips already curving up in a smile, anticipating.

“Shuhua.”

The Taiwanese girl points up at the mistletoe hanging above their heads, dangling by a thin string from the doorjamb. “When did that get there,” Soojin wonders aloud. She suspects Shuhua might have done some sneaking around of her own with her cut finger, because she swears that wasn’t there when they started cooking. Soojin fixes Shuhua with an unamused stare that doesn’t last for very long, not when Shuhua’s eyes are shining with hope and love. 

Who is Soojin to deny her of that?

Rolling her eyes and chuckling, Soojin pulls Shuhua in by the front of her apron. “Merry Christmas, my baby,” she breathes against Shuhua’s lips before painting them lipstick-red with her own.


	3. fingers

Yuqi watches Soyeon’s fingers type rapidly on her laptop, as they have been for the past few minutes, and then on the piano keyboard next to the laptop for hours prior. Long fingernails corn-yellow click against the keys, against the desk, against a pointed chin that angles itself up in the air when Soyeon’s deep in thought. 

Yuqi sighs, shifting where she is settled on the tiny couch in Soyeon's equally tiny office. She's sure the company has offered their group's leader a bigger office, considering how wildly successful they've grown as fully self-produced idols, credit fully given to Soyeon's songs. But no, she insists on being in this small cubicle, with a desk and couch and bookshelf all crammed together. There's nothing for Yuqi to do once she's done scrolling through her Twitter and Weibo feeds. There's just no space. 

Song Yuqi is: officially bored. 

She sighs again, hoping to draw Soyeon's attention. Her lamentations are drowned out by the tap-tap-tap of Soyeon working. How frustrating. This is not what she had planned for them for the holiday at all.

She waits for about two more seconds before trailing a finger down Soyeon’s spine, making the girl shiver. Soyeon spins around in her chair and yanks her headphones down. “Don’t do that,” she whines, hand instinctively reaching back to rub at where her spine still tingles.

Yuqi wants to laugh at the pout that creeps on Soyeon’s face. Dressed in an oversized tee and a baggy pair of sweatpants, Soyeon looks nothing like the fierce rapper she is onstage, especially when her face is free of make-up. Now she looks like a baby, with the exception of the long claws attached to the ends of her fingers that could probably poke someone’s eye out.

Jeon Soyeon, Yuqi thinks, is the master of duality. And Yuqi loves both sides of her to the moon and back, the charismatic performer who burns up the stage and the cute young woman who spends her nights at the studio, hard at work. 

But breaks need to be taken, too.

“Are you going to be done any time soon?” Yuqi complains. “We were supposed to go out for dinner, like, hours ago.”

“ _Hours_?” Soyeon stares at her, confused, then hurriedly checks her phone. “Oh no, Yuqi, I’m sorry! Your booking…”

Yuqi shrugs nonchalantly. “Can’t be helped. I anticipated this anyway, and told them to give the table to another couple if we don’t show up.” Lying down on the couch, she whips out her phone and scrolls through a food app. “How about delivery?”

“Okay,” Soyeon mumbles. She does feel very apologetic, she really does, especially when she knows Yuqi went out of her way to book a table at a restaurant Soyeon wanted to try and had mentioned in passing. She doesn’t deserve Yuqi, she thinks. Not this beautiful woman who showers her with affection, not her eyes that twinkle with laughter and freckled cheeks split by a laugh, not by her ever-warm presence and comforting touches.

Soyeon should be giving Song Yuqi the world, but she can’t even remember to spare some time from work on a day when they should be resting.

“Yuqi, I’m sorry,” she repeats, voice small.

And Yuqi looks up with a reassuring grin, and she pats Soyeon’s knee. “It’s alright. What do you want to eat?”

“Anything you want.” Soyeon is more than willing, willing to give Yuqi anything she wants. Shutting her laptop behind her, she turns back to give her full attention to the Chinese girl. She plays with the string on Yuqi's hoodie, twirling it between her fingers. 

"Okay, done." Yuqi taps her screen and rolls around. She sends Soyeon a wink, reaching out to smooth Soyeon's short hair down. "I hope you're ready for some vegetarian food."

Soyeon freezes where she sits. "No, you didn't." 

"But I did?" Yuqi waves her phone, her smile teasing. Soyeon makes a grab for it, tumbling over Yuqi's body as she tries to take it away and check their dinner order. 

"You better have not, Song Yuqi-" 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" Yuqi laughs breathlessly at Soyeon. She unlocks her phone and brandishes it at the girl currently straddling her. "Here, I got us tteokbokki and ice-cream."

Soyeon glances at the screen to confirm that, indeed, Yuqi did not order vegetables and that she is free from being tortured tonight. "Good."

"But anyway." Yuqi's is steadily gazing up at her, fingers letting go of the phone to dance up Soyeon's thighs, finding purchase on her waist. Her grin turns into a suggestive smirk as she digs into Soyeon's skin. "Looking up like this is a first."

If it were anyone else, Soyeon would immediately murder them for making such a blatant height joke. But this is Yuqi, and thus she knows exactly what the younger girl is talking about. Heat creeps into Soyeon's ears at the insinuation. "Yuqi, please!" she hisses. "We're still at the company!" 

"And?" 

"People might be listening!" 

"Soyeon, your office is soundproofed." Yuqi's hands slowly snake upwards. Soyeon actually has to slap her naughty hands away. She shuffles and hops off Yuqi, dislodging a box from Yuqi's pocket in the process. 

"What's that?" Soyeon leans down to pick it off the ground, but Yuqi swoops in and hides it back in her pocket before Soyeon can see. 

"Nothing."

See, now that's suspicious. Soyeon extends her hand, palm up. "Yuqi."

Yuqi fidgets under the cool stare and quiet tone. Eventually giving in, she swings her legs off the couch and stands up before Soyeon. 

"Fine. I wasn't planning on doing this right here and now, but." Yuqi clears her throat and deepens her voice. "Captain." 

"Yes." Yuqi's being unnaturally serious, and if she is to be honest, Soyeon is just a tad unnerved. She starts freaking out just a bit more when Yuqi goes onto one knee. "Oh my god what are you doing." 

"My beloved captain Jeon Soyeon." Yuqi fishes out the box from her pocket - now that Soyeon can look at it for more than two seconds, it's a simple velvet box without any adornments. A ring box. 

A ring box? 

"Will you officially be my girlfriend?" Yuqi asks as she opens the box, her face set in firm but hopeful lines. 

Soyeon stares at the ring inside the box. "Yuqi, this is a ring pop." 

"No, it's a ring designed to look like a mini yellow ring pop," Yuqi corrects her, rolling her eyes. "And you didn't even answer my question."

Soyeon furrows her brows, confused. "I thought we were already dating. Officially."

"Oh." Yuqi hums in deliberation before offering the ring to Soyeon. "In that case, you should wear this." 

"But it's a ring pop."

"Come on, play along, I have one of my own!" Yuqi points at her own ring finger - which again, now that Soyeon doesn't have her head buried in work, she can see a clear band of metal with a silly design in yellow fashioned on it. 

Soyeon snorts, amused, and nods, sticking her ring onto her finger. "There."

Grinning, Yuqi tackles her down onto the couch. Her hair is lit by the dim lights of the studio, locks that burn like wildfire brushing against Soyeon's cheek as she pulls the older woman into a tight hug. What a childish proposal, Soyeon thinks as she hugs back, and how very perfectly Yuqi. 

When they separate, Yuqi leaning back on her knees and heels, she wiggles her brows at Soyeon lying under her, hair mussed and a grin on her face. "This is a bit more familiar, isn't it?" she snickers. "And delivery won't be here for a while."

Her fingers reach for the light switch. The office turns dark.


End file.
